ater beside the ledge, he made several powerful and rapid
strokes, which carried him within a few yards of the point.

"He's safe," said Rokens eagerly.

"No; he's missed it!" cried the second mate, who, with Gurney and Dick
Barnes, payed out the rope.

Glynn had indeed almost caught hold of the farthest-out ledge of the
point when he was drawn back into the surge, and this time dashed
against a rock and partially stunned. The men had already begun to haul
in on the rope when he recovered, and making a last effort, gained the
rocks, up which he clambered slowly. When beyond the reach of the waves
he fell down as if he had fainted.

This, however, was not the case; he was merely exhausted, as well as
confused, by the blows he had received on the rocks, and lay for a few
seconds quite still in order to recover strength, during which period of
inaction he thanked God earnestly for his deliverance, and prayed
fervently that he might be made the means of saving his companions in
danger.

After a minute or two he rose, unfastened the line from his waist, and
began to haul it ashore. To the other end of the small line the men in
the ship attached a thick cable, the end of which was soon pulled up,
and made fast to a large rock.

Tim Rokens was now ordered to proceed to the shore by means of the rope
in order to test it. After this a sort of swing was constructed, with a
noose which was passed round the cable. To this a small line was
fastened, and passed to the shore. On this swinging-seat Ailie was
seated, and hauled to the rocks, Tim Rokens "shinning" along the cable
at the same time to guard her from accident. Then the men began to
land, and thus, one by one, the crew of the _Red Eric_ reached the shore
in safety; and when all had landed, Captain Dunning, standing in the
midst of his men, lifted up his voice in thanksgiving to God for their
deliverance.

But when daylight came the full extent of their forlorn situation was
revealed. The ship was a complete wreck; the boats were all gone, and
they found that the island on which they had been cast was only a few
square yards in extent--a mere sandbank, utterly destitute of shrub or
tree, and raised only a few feet above the level of the ocean.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE SANDBANK--THE WRECKED CREW MAKE THE BEST OF BAD CIRCUMSTANCES.

It will scarcely surprise the reader to be told that, after the first
emotions of thankfulness for deliverance from what had